Wolf Howling

by Brian van Brunt

  Jade smiled at this card and made a happy sigh “Ahhhhh. This is a good card for you. While the journey has been hard, the path forward is clear. You have success waiting for you ahead on the opposite shore. You will overcome the obstacles in front of you. You will help the girl.”

  “What?” Wagner asked.

  “There is a girl. She is on your journey as well.” Jade touched the cloaked figure. “She in turn helped the boy. The cloak hid her from the world. She was often mysterious and unknown. An aspiration of sorts.”

  This revelation was too close to the truth for Wagner. Jade saw the concern in his eyes and looked thoughtfully at the deck. She touched the crystal for guidance. Jade said, “I feel like the deck has something else to tell you. May I turn over some other cards?”

  Wagner’s mouth was dry and he swallowed. That foggy feeling was back. Not quite déjà vu, but something like it. He nodded wordlessly to Jade and she shuffled the deck again, carefully mixing the cards five or six times. She asked Wagner to cut the deck. He obliged.

  Jade set down three more cards in a row and turned them over in rapid succession. Cups. The Ace of Cups, the Two of Cups, the Three of Cups. Now it was Jade who looked shaken up. A cup overflowing with water. Two figures holding cups between an angel. Three women holding cups. People drinking. Cups overflowing.

  “That’s very, very odd. To draw three of the same suit. And to draw them in order. So many cups lined up at once. This is important for you. An emphasis.” Jade nodded to herself.

  Wagner felt a sense of dread growing again. Somewhere deep. Something broken and pinballing against the machine.

  She shuffled the deck once more. This time, eight or nine cycles, she shuffled the cards quickly in her hands. She cut the deck first this time. She cut it once and then she cut the deck again. She then had Wagner cut the deck one last time and drew three more cards.

  Four of Cups. Five of Cups. Six of Cups.

  The odds were astronomical. A man sat on the ground surrounded by cups. A dark figure holding a cup. Children playing by cups.

  Jade tried some humor. “So many cups. And all in order. A powerful message for you. Perhaps with all these cups, you are to open a bar in your future?”

  Wagner fumbled to take a twenty out of his front pocket and stepped back from the table.

  “Thank you,” he said in a soft voice. His legs swayed.

  Jade nodded, mesmerized by the cards. She shuffled the deck again as Wagner left her. She thought for a moment that she should try to help calm him. The mysteries of the cards can unnerve, and there are many ways to interpret how they fall. Still. She finished shuffling and the next cards came up. She did what the girl had asked, but these cards fell of their own accord.

  Seven, Eight, Nine of cups.

  The nine was an image of a seated man. A tall bar stretched out behind him and a stack of nine golden cups sat on the bar. The nine of cups, a card of abundance. Wine to drink or cups to sell.

  So many cards ordered exactly in succession spooked Jade deeply, and she was not one to frighten easily. Something bigger was happening here. Perhaps it was that girl and her dog that had spooked her earlier. There was something about that one she found disquieting. Jade decided to pack up for the night. She shuffled the deck together and put her crystals and tarot cards in her knapsack and packed her table and chairs.

  She watched the fading figure of Wagner cross St. Ann by the square in front of Muriel’s restaurant. She thought of the ghost of Pierre Antoine Lepardi Jourdan, said to haunt the building after committing suicide on the second floor after losing the lease in an ill-fated card game. They set a table for him each night in the very back of the building. Maybe that was a good omen for her customer to open a bar. Maybe that path will hold some salvation for him.

  She finished packing and walked across the darkened square.

  Chapter 12

  New Orleans, Spring, Tuesday, 8:15pm

  Ella led the group back down Chartres for their last ghost story. She liked to tell it down Pere Antoine Alley by Jackson Square and the St. Louis Cathedral. It was rarely busy down the alley. It had a comforting, closed-in feeling with a large tour group. Sometimes, when she was doing tours at the same time as Dave, they would meet up here and really pack the group in.

  “Careful here, avoid stepping in the rain gutter. You wouldn’t want to trip or lose your balance,” Ella warned the group about the long, cut trench that broke up the cobblestones in the center of the street. Two of the children stepped over it and looked carefully at the stone, so foreign from their own home’s pavement and blacktop. That was part of the allure of New Orleans, like stepping into history. Ella knew this was what most of Europe looked like, so stepping back a few hundred years was nothing compared to the castles and roads she had seen during her travels abroad.

  “So, you’ve survived the night so far; which is good. That’s what many people feel as they walk around the city at night. Perhaps you’ve heard these stories as well if you are visiting from afar. The city is safe, but best to keep to the center of the Quarter. Wander too far on the outskirts and the city starts to get a little thinner, a little more dangerous.” Ella surveyed the group. The Brittney’s Bitches were out of alcohol. She guessed they would be the first to line back up at the bar.

  “See, that’s what people thought. That it was safe here. But they were wrong. No one was safe from Marauding Jack. A few of you might be old enough to remember the stories from the 50s. This is when the murders occurred.” She looked around to see some of the older tour members nod in agreement.

  “Some say they called him Jack out of homage to the famous murderer Jack the Ripper from the late 1800s. There are similarities, of course, since both killers preferred to be all up close and personal-like with a knife. Jack the Ripper preyed on prostitutes and women of the night, while Marauding Jack was a little less picky. Jack the Ripper focused on the Whitechapel district of London, while Marauding Jack was drawn to the French Quarter of New Orleans.

  “The murders here occurred over the summer in 1951. Ten were killed when all was said and done. There were six women and four men, three of whom were well-to-do socialites or business people. The other seven came from various lesser backgrounds, including three homeless. Some were local to the city, some visitors. The police spent a long time trying to find a pattern in the killings, but never got close to understanding the mind of Marauding Jack.

  “What makes this story interesting is the one victim of Jack’s knife who lived—a young girl named Adaline de Croix. She met Jack and received no less than 15 stab wounds from him. He left her here, right in this very alley, to die. But Jack may have made his first mistake by choosing this alley. Perhaps it was the ghost of Antonio de Sedella, a Spanish friar who took part in the Inquisitions and who baptized the famous Voodoo priestess Marie Laveau. Perhaps it was the more public location of the attempted killing next to the church. It is hard to say. But Adaline lived, and lives to this day as a caretaker in the Old Ursuline Convent Museum. She has never spoken of the attack. Some wonder if it was the terror of that night or the damage to her vocal chords, but she hasn’t spoken a word since.”

  Ella paused here and took a different tone with the group. “I’m sure you’re asking yourself why I’m telling you this story. This is a ghost tour. This is not a tour of famous historical killers and murders in the city; though, there have been many of those.” Ella saw the nods from the group. They waited for her next words. “You see, the murders stopped, but the stories continue to this day. They say when something so horrific occurs on holy ground, it creates a grounding place for the otherworldly. To this day, people tell stories of experiencing sudden chills when they walk this street and feelings of vertigo when they stand on the spot where young Miss de Croix bled so much on the cobblestone.

  “Jack would be in his 80s today if he was a young man when he started his killing. Quite a bit older, if he had reached mid-age before he carried out his macabre plan. I think he
had filled his gullet with the killings and went into his old age and death, holding onto the memories of those he killed. Some think that when he died, the ghost of Antonio de Sedella drew him back to this place in the city. Perhaps the ghost took it personally that Jack chose this alley, his final resting place, to draw blood. Or it could be the ghost of de Sedalla hadn’t gotten enough torture during the Spanish Inquisition to satiate his appetite. Perhaps he was looking for a soul to purify for Christ.

  “No one knows for sure. But they do say that if you stand here, right here next to where I’m standing, in the very place where the blood of Miss Adaline de Croix pooled almost seventy years ago on an evening much like this, that maybe you will feel something.” The group quietly looked down at the length of rain gutter with wide eyes.

  Ella continued, “I don’t stand on that spot anymore. I am careful to avoid it. I even warn others about crossing it.” Ella looked to the young children who crossed it earlier and then backed away from the spot toward Royal Street.

  She gave one more admonition to the group, “If you are brave enough, or foolish enough, perhaps you will stand there. Maybe just for a brief moment to think about Miss de Croix, lying on the cobblestones as she watched her blood flow out and away from her. Perhaps you will feel that sudden chill or dizziness that so many have felt before. Maybe, if you were to kneel down and look back towards Jackson Square, much like she did, you will feel her, struggling to breathe, braced by horrific pain, watching Marauding Jack stride away from her, into the night.”

  The group took turns and gathered around the spot Ella had indicated. She watched some kneel down and stand back up; sometimes they were creeped out, sometimes they just stepped back and shook their heads in disappointment. It looked as if one blonde in Brittney’s Bash actually flashed the spot and called out to the ghost to come get some. Nice. Sigh.

  Peg-Leg Pete’s and Ghost Alley Tours was just around the block. Ella brought the group back there to complete their tour. Liv wasn’t at her post, which was strange. She wondered where she was. Cliff was telling a story to a group of people by the Crow’s Nest. The bar was extremely full; the late-night tour always drew larger crowds. She elbowed her way past several thirsty people and set down her bottle for Hope to fill. She gave her a wink and said, “thirsty work.” Hope had a tall woman with a small dog on the hook for three cannonball shots. The dog was currently licking the ice glass in her hand before she threw it at the wall.

  The gift shop and bar usually did some brisk business right after the tour. A few of them slipped Ella tens and fives as tips for a good tour. As she predicted, LSU Hat handed her a piece of paper with his number and, pleasantly, a $10 bill. She gave him a gracious smile as one of Brittney’s Bitches pulled her aside and thanked her for the tour with a too-happy, California “so much!” She slipped a twenty into her hand. She said, “It just made Brittney’s night. I’m her maid of honor and I’m so glad I booked this here with you. I’ll totally give you a good review on my phone!” Ella noticed a newcomer to the bar over the maid of honor’s shoulder.

  He was Caucasian and tall, with a thin build, in his early thirties and wearing jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket. His hair fell around his eyes, although Ella could still see their steel blue looking back at her with a smile. She broke free from Brittney’s maid of honor with a thank you and walked over to him.

  “Coop!” she said and gave him a long hug. He hugged her back and said, “Hey there, baby.”

  “You ready for tonight?” she asked him, regretfully breaking away from the hug. He felt good. She could have lingered there all night.

  “I think so. It’s a new set, so we still have some kinks to work out. But you know, that’s just rock and roll; it isn’t always clean. How was your first tour?” he asked.

  “Oh, I killed it with this group. Bachelorette party. Hey, come with me in the back. I wanna hear about the new set. Do you have a few?”

  “Sure, I don’t meet up with them till a little after 9,” he said and took her hand as they walked back past the bar. Ella took her bottle of beer from Hope with a “thank you,” and they went into the staff lounge. Dave was again sitting at the computer and playing solitaire. He looked up and said, “Hey Cooper. Good to see you.” Coop waved back and sat down at a couch in the corner of the room. Ella tossed the piece of paper LSU Hat had given her in the half-filled bowl.

  “Tour go okay, Dave?” Ella asked him.

  “Hey! Sweet,” he said at the paper in the bowl. “So many horny men out there needing a lesson.” Then back to Ella, “The tour was pretty good. Kid got sick about halfway through and left a pretty good mess on the street. Not that anyone will notice in the Quarter.”

  “I killed with Malick tonight. Really freaked some people out.” She intertwined her fingers between Coops like she was in high school. He had that effect on her. Rockstar boyfriend.

  “See, it’s that knife bit you do.” Dave brightened some. “Hey, mind if we meet up for the last group? I’ll swap stories and you can do Malick for both groups?”

  Ella thought. She did like that bit and having an audience. “Well…”

  “Come on, it’ll be great! Meet you at 10 at Bourbon and Dauphine. We can walk them back and split at the blacksmith shop so you can do Jack in the alley. I haven’t seen you do Malick in a while. You always give me chills with that one.”

  “Okay, okay. But do me a favor; let Coop and I talk for a bit? Do you mind?” she asked Dave. “Done!” Dave stood up and packed up his things, Zazu bobbing up and down. “This makes the night go by so much faster.” He clicked over to the schedule on the computer. “Big group tonight, too. Check it out when you get a chance. Full boat. “

  Dave crossed the room and gave Ella a high-five. “Rock it out tonight,” he said to Cooper as he walked through the door.

  “Dave, have you seen Liv?” Ella asked, but the door had already swung shut.

  “Look at you, tour guide extraordinaire,” Coop said. She smiled. She stood up and walked to the door and slid the dead bolt into place.

  She took a deep swig of beer and hovered over Coop on the couch. She handed him the bottle. He took a drink.

  Ella raised her skirt and straddled him, “So, Mr. Rockstar. Do you want to tell me about your set?” She took the bottle from him, had a long pull on it, and set it down on the table next to the couch. She could feel him growing hard against her through his jeans.

  “Well, I think we’re going to open with…” She kissed him, ending his sentence in a muffled surprise noise. He had the taste of gin on his lips and her tongue went deeper, pressing into his mouth. Her grey-white hair fell across her face as he worked to undo her top. Ella ran her fingers through his hair and then scraped her nails against his shoulders. She placed his hands on her hips and he kissed her harder.

  On the other side of the bolted door, a cannonball shot glass shattered against the wall. They startled at this and then chuckled, accompanied by shouts and laughter from the bar. She brushed the hair out of his face and kissed him more gently. His hands were an effortless blur, roving across her body.

  The two were alone in the world, the silver knife handle glistening, sheathed on Ella’s outer thigh. Captain Malick and Pirate Alley Ghost Tours were far from their minds.

  Crescendo

  Chapter 13

  New Orleans, Spring, Tuesday, 9:45pm

  Well, shit. She knew it was too late. That old Abba song went through her head. What was it again? The name came to her. “Winner Takes It All.” No more ace to play.

  She waited and looked at a balcony above her with a brightly lit metal tree. The lights were all purple and shimmering. She liked the way they called out into the night. Like a million little fairies. All hovering in one place.

  She stroked Oliver on his head and down his long back while she waited some more. She ran over the day and thought about what else she could have done. She supposed she could have held him down and hit him until he understood. But that wasn�
��t the way, she had been told.

  She waited until she heard the loud thud from several blocks away up towards Canal Street. That was the start. It sounded like someone had struck a loud gong in a hollow dumpster. Minutes later, she could hear the distant sirens start. It wouldn’t be long now.

  The second explosive thud occurred closer to Decatur and the river’s edge. Like thunder over the water. The sirens were louder now. She imagined the fire trucks and police swarming to the location of the detonation. She’d seen it before, so she didn’t need to really use her imagination.

  She waited again, stroking Oliver and calming him when the familiar staccato pop, pop, pop of rifle fire sounded from a block behind her. Then the screams. More pop, pop, pop. More screams.

  The sirens were now loud and echoing all around the Quarter. It was like they had set up the world’s best hi-fi system to blast out the worst songs.

  Well, shit.

  She stood up and headed over to the Crescent City Grille.

  Oliver padded along behind her.

  Chapter 14

  The Book of Albert

  Chapter 1: The First Commandment

  1The mistakes of others serve as beacons to the purity of a successful plan. 2Preparation, after all, is the first commandment. 3To plan gives options, options provide flexibility. 4Immerse yourself in the quiet still of the cool waters and contemplate, my disciple. 5Reflect and breathe and seek to study the path of others and learn their mistakes and victories. 6We are all connected in this way, like the Zulu warrior who eats the heart of his conquests, consume the flesh of those who have gone before. 7Use them like the Hopi tribe used all the parts of the buffalo. 8So it shall come to pass; so it shall be.